This Cruel Wanting
by Rhianna-Aurora
Summary: She's beautiful and broken, and it's his job to help put her back together. The problem is, he might be starting to believe in the stories she's telling about this fairytale life they all had, and that puts them all in danger from someone who doesn't want that to happen.


_A/N:_ _I hope you will all bear with me for this one. It came to me this morning, just begging to be written, and so here it is. It's canon divergence with a SORT OF modern AU twist._

 _A few disclaimers: 1) the world this is set in is NOT our modern world as we know it, but a completely separate sort of realm with its own set of rules (which will all make sense as the story progresses). As such, our modern takes on certain things mentioned in the story don't really hold true here. 2) the idea sort of came from those "what if the last episode shows that all this is just a dream and Emma's really locked up in an asylum" scenarios that everyone throws around ... I just took that ball and ran with it. That being said - I hope you enjoy it! Story title is from "Lost in Paradise" by Evanescence, and chapter titles are from "Hallelujah" by ... take your pick. Both songs I really recommend you all listen to._

 _ **One  
**_ **It Goes Like This**

Misthaven. It was a pretty name to hide behind, when the truth was, this institution was last call for the people who called it home. The place they went when there was no hope left. The people here didn't have family, they didn't have friends. They didn't have people who would miss them.

Killian Jones had made it his life's mission to take down Gold, the director (gaoler, if you asked Killian). With every patient he helped to get better, he helped to rehabilitate and send back into the world, he knew he was weakening Gold. There was something so _twisted_ about the man, who had so little regard for human life ... who saw the broken as no more than pawns.

But there were times when Killian felt as though he were no better. That if he kept seeking out this vengeance against Gold, the man who had cost _him_ so much, he would end up just the same, with nothing and no one else to live for.

That had been before ...

He thought he'd had a handle on this. It'd been nearly a month, and he'd damn near been able to wipe all traces of ... that day ... from his mind. But as he looked down at his schedule of patients to see for the week, and saw a name penciled in there that _hadn't_ been there when he'd left on Friday ... it all came crashing down.

He'd thought they'd taken care of this.

 _He thought he'd never have to see her again_.

His first stop was the director's office, for all the good that it would do. It was his professional opinion that the man was a certifiable sociopath - but he was also rich and had all the connections in the world, so his word was law.

He knew he wasn't welcome in this office, he knew the man _despised_ him, but he also knew that he needed him. He was the best in the state, and Gold couldn't fire him, despite his personal hatred of the man, because he'd been there for nigh on ten years now.

Ten years, and he was _tired_.

He knocked once, then entered the director's overly opulent (for his tastes, anyway) office without waiting for a response. He wasn't about to be turned away, no matter how difficult a meeting this was going to be.

He was surprised to find that Gold didn't look all that shocked to see him. It was _almost_ as surprising as the fact that the man was now sporting an eyepatch and a rather nasty looking red gash down his cheek. Something had taken a swipe at him, and Killian couldn't help but feel a little bit of satisfaction at the fact.

It wasn't like the man didn't have it coming.

"I assumed I'd be seeing you once you saw the new rotation of patients." Gold sighed heavily, his fingers steepled in front of him as he regarded Killian with his one functioning eye.

"I thought she was being reassigned."

"We've _tried_. We've sent in every other doctor that we have, and she's refused to so much as _speak_ to any of them. She's stopped eating, and as much as I would be happy to let nature take its course, apparently," Gold sneered, "it's unethical."

Killian rolled his eyes. "Well, that's never stopped you before," he said sarcastically, unable to resist.

Gold gave him a scathing look, and Killian knew that he didn't for a second believe that he didn't have some part in the ... fiasco, even though he honest to God ...

He honest to God should have known better. But she'd _gotten_ to him, she'd made him question _everything_ he thought he knew, everything he thought he believed. Every vow he'd taken, every promised he'd ever made ... she'd pushed him to the brink of breaking every single one of them.

"She's becoming a hazard. Before, she was merely harmless. Delusional, yes, but ... harmless. But she's given way to fits of rage now, screaming out in the middle of the night from whatever it is that haunts these people ... disturbing the peace. Getting the other patients whipped into a frenzy with one of her _stories_. You know how she is."

Killian did know, all too well. She was earnest and pleading, with the saddest green eyes ... when she told her stories, people listened, even the most unruly and restless among them. Something about her soothed the others, something about her put them at peace. Even the catatonic former schoolteacher seemed to respond to her, turning almost like a flower turned to the sun, whenever she spoke, as if something in her words resonated deep within a forgotten part of her. He couldn't imagine what she might have said that would have gotten the other patients out of control ... that wasn't like her.

 _Except that you know what she's capable of_. Killian pushed the thought aside, as well as _other_ thoughts that had plagued him. It wasn't just the other patients who responded to her words. For a minute there, she'd almost had _him_ believing ...

She was a bloody siren, was what she was.

"We put her in solitary, but she ... got out."

Killian frowned, Gold's next words bringing him out of his own reverie. He _hated_ the way Gold talked about the patients, as if they were subhuman, as if they were cattle. His frown deepened then. "She got out of solitary?" His brow arched, disbelieving. There was no way. That place was locked down tighter than any maximum security prison.

"Electrical malfunction," Gold shook his head and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. Clearly there was more to it, but he wasn't about to divulge that information to his most hated employee. "She was caught before she could get out of the facility entirely, and she's been ... subdued."

Killian narrowed his eyes, feeling rage of his own bubbling up inside of him. He knew what that meant, and the fury he felt at the thought of them doing that to _her_ was beyond imaginable. "You _shocked_ her?" It was a barbaric practice, one he didn't condone on _any_ patient, no matter how severe the problem, especially not when there were _other_ , more humane ways to calm people down these days. Medications, sedatives. _Anything_ was better than that.

Gold's eye flashed at him as he looked at Killian. "We attempted to restrain her, we attempted to do things _civilly_ , I assure you, Dr. Jones." He gestured to his face, and Killian's eyes widened in understanding.

It was all he could do not to laugh out loud. She was a hellcat.

But then, he'd known that for awhile now.

"She's been peaceful ever since, but last night, the overnight nurse said she heard her crying, and I'm just not sure the staff can withstand another one of her ... episodes." Gold gave him a look.

Killian didn't trust any of this. There was no way it was that simple. "But with what happened ... "

"I don't think that's going to be an issue again, now do you, dearie?" Gold snapped condescendingly. "I'm sure you don't want to see her permanently relegated to a vegetative state just to keep her _peaceful_."

That was a threat if Killian had ever heard one, and he didn't for one second doubt that Gold would do it. He'd done worse - or so the whispers said. And Killian didn't doubt the truth behind them, not in the slightest. Not knowing this man the way he did.

"So what would you have me do?" Killian asked. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing her again, not after what had happened the last time they'd seen each other.

"I think I've made myself clear. Keep her _peaceful_ , however it is you've managed in the past," Gold told him coolly. "If you don't think you _can_ , then we'll have to resort to other measures."

He knew he was dismissed, but he was no more clear on how _he_ , of all people, was supposed to keep her "peaceful". She _wasn't_ peaceful with him, she was agitated and pleading, spinning stories of a life too impossible and too beautiful to be real, but she _truly_ believed what she said.

But she wouldn't talk to the others, Gold had said ... was that it?

Did she _know_ something?

His heart sped up as he made his way to his office, unlocking it and letting himself inside, shutting the door and pressing his hand and forehead against it with a heavy sigh. Gold was goddamn bloody well using _him_ to get information from _her_. But why?

"You're late."

The voice behind him nearly made him shout in surprise, and he whirled quickly. "How ... "

She shrugged from where she sat, in _his_ chair, behind _his_ desk, as if she goddamn owned the place, the ghost of a smile playing over those perfect pink lips of hers. "You know I'm good with locks."

The room already felt too small, just from her mere presence in it. He could feel his body responding to her, to the memory of the _last_ time they'd been here.

He was so completely and utterly fucked.

She was looking at him with those sea-green eyes, waiting for him to do or say something. He glanced down at the paperwork in his hand. "I thought you were ... "

" _Subdued_?" She rolled her eyes, a bitter laugh escaping her. "Shocks don't work on me, I _told_ you. I'm just ... good at pretending." She stood up then, taking a few steps closer to him, and he honestly wasn't sure what he was going to do if she got any nearer. But she moved to the sofa instead, lying down on it like you always saw in movies, her blonde hair fanned out behind her. She looked up at him expectantly.

It was so hard to _breathe_ around her. He always had the strangest feeling when she was around, like he was only _half_ -remembering things. There were flashes of red and gold, the salty scent of wind off the sea, the vague sensation of wooden planks rocking gently beneath his feet - these images seemed to follow her around, to sear themselves in his brain.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to come back to the present, trying to clear his mind of anything but the here and now. But the problem was that the _here_ and the _now_ , was _her_.

"We only have an hour you know."

Her voice was wry, but there was amusement there. It was so hard to make himself remember that she was _crazy_ , that she was a _patient_. And everything that he was thinking or feeling about her was _wrong_.

"Right," he said, shaking his head a little as he looked back at her, just briefly, not trusting himself to let his eyes rake over her or to _remember_ ... "I ... I wasn't expecting to see you again."

"I know," she said, and her voice sounded resigned. "They said I was going to be reassigned."

"They told me you wouldn't talk to anyone, and that you caused quite a ruckus." He chuckled, in spite of himself and the situation. "I saw what you did to Gold's face, by the way."

She shrugged, folding her hands over her abdomen then. "Bastard had it coming. And he did _shock_ me afterward, so I'd say we're even."

"Fair point, lass." He moved to his desk then, but instead of sitting back in his chair, keeping his professional distance, like he _should_ have, he moved to perch himself on the edge of the desk closest to her. "Why are we here again?"

"The same reason as always, Killian," she told him pointedly, moving then, sitting up so she could look him in the eye. She had always staunchly refused to call him _Doctor_ , or use his last name. She had known within seconds of meeting him that his left hand was a prostethic, and she'd known his first name without him telling her.

The rational part of his brain said she probably had stalker tendencies ... but there was so much more that she said that left him dizzyingly confused. About a life they'd had _together_ , in this place she called Storybrooke.

"Part of you believes me," she said, her gaze never faltering from his. "And if you'd just _kiss me_ ... "

He raised his hand, shaking his head and moving then, back behind his desk, where he should have been all along. She didn't follow this time, for which he was grateful. Last time they'd been here, she'd almost ... He fought off the memories of her approaching him, of her _straddling_ him, of the way she'd ground herself down against him, fingers in his hair as she leaned in, begging him in a whisper to remember, her lips _so close_ to his he'd almost been able to taste them ... if his timer hadn't gone off, signalling the end of their session, who knew _what_ would have happened.

He'd nearly gotten fired as it was ... and he was pretty bloody sure now that the only reason he was still here was for whatever Gold was trying to use him for.

"We've talked about this. Not only is it part of ... of what we're trying to work on here, it's also completely against my code, as your doctor."

"You and your stupid _code_. Always _such a gentleman_." She rolled her eyes, flopping back down onto the sofa, a petulant look on her face. But she wasn't pushing it this time, he wondered what had changed. But when he looked at her, he saw that _nothing_ had changed. She was still regarding him the same way, still looking at him as if she ...

He shook his head. _As if she loves me_ , the thought finished itself in his mind, and he hated himself for even letting such a notion take hold. For letting it make him _hope_.

It was the same, all the time. She thought she was some fairytale princess and that he was her True Love. She was convinced that if he'd just _kiss her_ , it would break this spell that had them all trapped here. She was convinced of it, and sometimes she was so _goddamned earnest_ about it that he found himself believing, even if only for a second, before logic and reason caught up with him. It was common, in people who'd grown up as she had, bounced from home to home, to make up some fantasy about being a long lost princess.

But most people grew out of that.

 _Emma_ never had.


End file.
